


east of eden.

by archangelcore



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: But also, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, Dongju is only mentioned ://, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae & Fairies, Fairy! Hwanwoong, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Keonhee POV, M/M, ONEWE Cameos, Spirit! Leedo, i lied dongju is not only mentioned now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelcore/pseuds/archangelcore
Summary: Just Keonhee's luck, he was chosen to be the annual sacrifice to the unruly, deranged spirit that lived beyond the village.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Keonhee, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> me at 2 am; you know what would be a concept

* * *

"Spring resembles birth," Keonhee said, absently, as he wandered closer to the edge of the village. The part where the sandy ground scuffed close to grass, pricking up and swaying wistfully against his boots. When the season turned from the sloshy winter, he liked to sit in the meadow and watch the gentle breeze make the blades of grass dance. He didn't pluck at them like Seoho did when he was irritated, he didn't scoff in disgust when it stained his clothes like his younger sister, Hyeonhee. He just liked to watch. Alone. It was an annoyance when it came to sharing such a quiet time with other people; they would squirm and shift. Keonhee had many friends in the village, and with how much he talked and bounced around, most couldn't believe that he liked such a tame past time. Seoho would nudge at him, trying to get him to cave why he _really_ went to the meadow, but Keonhee's answer was the same every single time.

"It means new life. Rebirth to all dead things." Keonhee continued, poking at buds struggling to unfurl and give way to their vivid colors. He pressed his lips tightly together, straightening back up again as he turned to see if Seoho followed. He had been quiet thus far, but his shoulders sagged in relief when he saw his older friend shuffling behind, carefully pulling at a pastry with his teeth. He seemed more focus on that instead of Keonhee's senseless ramblings, per usual. He didn't want to be seen as the kook in the village, but Seoho didn't help when he behaved as though he were rabid all the time. He was always spewling weird, contorted thoughts that had the elders scowling at them if overheard. Seoho was harmless with his cheeky eyesmile and thick hair that curled when the wind blew it just right. Keonhee often found himself teasing his hyung, dropping a slender hand to ruffle the black mop Seoho called his hair whenever he made a remark too wounded whenever a jest would be tossed his way. Keonhee, despite the trial and errors that came with being Lee Seoho's friend, found himself glued at his hip anyways. Found himself spending every waking moment with him, because who else would be just as eccentric- and just as loud, if the situation called for it?

"Everyone knows that, stupid." Seoho mumbled when his brain caught up with him. Keonhee was always gracious to give him a few extra seconds to place where he was and what was being said, especially when he was focused. There was no getting through to him then. "It's common knowledge."

"Here I thought I knew something you didn't." Keonhee pouted. Seoho made a displeased noise, reaching out to pat his cheek until he scoffed and smoothed out his expression.

"You always look like some ugly frog when you do that." Seoho murmured closing a hand around his sweet once more, like he was drawing warmth from it. It was a nice day; Keonhee couldn't imagine how he was cold. "If it gives you solace, it looks like you spent many nights in the library studying." He took a hearty bite and offered some to Keonhee. He refused and Seoho drew it back closer to himself. "It's a good look on you. The elders will be more inclined to think of you as someone intelligent for once."

"When have they not thought that?" Keonhee asked, offended.

"I've heard them talk. They think you're a bit silly for wandering in the meadow. It's close to the woods- you know how they feel about _that_." Seoho's voice dropped, as if telling a secret. In a way, he was- except it was a secret everyone already knew. They liked to hide it from neighboring villages, but word passed and soon everyone was aware of the Forest Spirit that dwelled in the huddled and dreary woods. Keonhee didn't know much about it; his mother went out of her way to hide him from the truth, but no one can hide the truth for long. Keonhee had pinched it out of Seoho one day, getting a definitive answer after the village went mournfully hush last spring.

Last spring, of course, wasn't a good time. One of the Son twins- the younger one, Dongju- was found dead in the woods. Of course, not _in_ in the woods, since no one was allowed to venture that close. Even the Son twins, who rebelled against all expectations, knew that. He was found on the outskirts, head bowed and dark hair falling in dead waves over his face. That's what they said. Keonhee doesn't know his state of being, if he was maimed or if he was simply limp, but he was certainly dead. Some of the men had to go get him, carting him back on some elongated board, a crisp sheet draped over his corpse.

His mother wailed. His twin, Dongmyeong, sobbed helplessly into his hands. Keonhee only got glimpsed from his window before his mother drew the curtains, blocking anything more from being seen.

"Mom!" He had protested, "I'm twenty-one, I can see-"

"Enough. Your morbid fascination with this is concerning." His mother's town was clipped, tight enough to make him recoil in surprise. His mother was often strict, heavy shouldered from being a single mother since their father left shortly after his youngest sister's birth, but she never spoke to him so icily. He could feel the color drain from his face, closing one hand over the other with a gulp. His mother side, reaching out to fix his hair. Keonhee bowed his head, lips pressed tight.

"Don't be like that, Keonhee." His mother sighed, "I know you want to know what's going on, but it's for the best if you don't. That Son boy was so young, it was such a shame on what happened to him."

"What _exactly_ happened to him?" Keonhee demanded more so than asked. He made sure to keep any bite out of his tone in case his mother found offense in it.

"The Forest Spirit, of course." His mother tsked, bitterly, "Now, please go comfort your sisters. You know Hyeonhee had a helpless little crush on Dongju."

So, Keonhee had kept that in his mind. He mulled over it, trying to piece together himself, but each theory didn't make as much sense as the last. Springtime went on as it did, even after the burial. People still picked their harvests, sold them in exchange for polished coins. The children still kicked up dirt under their bare feet, screeching and chasing each other. Women still gathered, spent time together among homecooked meals. Keonhee still sat by Seoho's side in the meadow, wondering if the new rain washed away the blood that stained the grass. He'd wonder if he was sitting on a footprint of a heartbroken father, heartbroken friend. He wondered-

Now, at twenty-two, Keonhee felt like he knew some things or another about this so-called spirit, about this so-called paranoia.

"I think they're the silly ones," He retorted, earning a raised eyebrow, "There are animals in the woods. Wolves, bears- mean things that could've gotten him. Dongju was one to put up a meek fight, anyways. It's sad, but inevitable, and definitely not at the hand of some spirit."

"You think they made it up?" Seoho smacked his lips together, to which Keonhee nodded at, "Idiot. They think the Forest Spirit _commanded_ the animals to attack Dongju. Or- whatever might've happened. You know the rumors change by the person." He looked at his pastry, before tossing it into the nearest bin. Appetite lost- rightfully so. "Either way, don't speak so carelessly about it around them. You'll get blacklisted and that'd look bad for me, too."

"Aish..." Keonhee gave Seoho a _look_ , one that him grinning like a fool in response, "Whatever."

"Not 'whatever', you seriously have to think of it. You can't just talk without thinking anymore." Seoho insisted, throwing an arm around Keonhee. He smelt like the spring, with a touch of something minty. It suited him, it comforted Keonhee. Familiarity that couldn't easily be done away with. Instinctively, he leaned into his shorter friend, who only squeezed him closer. Keonhee got a lot of benefits from Seoho that most people didn't, and for that, he was grateful. There was some weird guidance Seoho provided, either it by his easy-going nature when Keonhee was in the midst of panic or the fact there was never a dull moment in their conversation. Each pause was revved back to life, but it's not like Keonhee let it fall, either. They were often said to be a dynamic pair, matched by the stars themselves. The best of friends.

Keonhee was inclined to agree, most times.

"They said they were going to try something new. Do you wonder what it is?" Seoho asked, turning when an older woman called for them. Keonhee's gaze followed, and sure enough, they were already starting to gather in the middle of the village. The two exchanged unsure glances, but obliged regardless. Keonhee's feet drew him to the mass, but he wasn't sure where he should go. With things like this, he should join his mother's side, stand tall and proud behind his sisters. Though, it felt strange leaving Seoho behind. He was by himself, often claiming Keonhee was the only family he had. He'd say it sheepishly, through a forced smile. One that held what he was feeling for the sake of positivity. Seoho gave it endlessly, it was due time it was paid back to him. One day, Keonhee would give him all he owed.

As if reading his mind, Seoho jabbed his elbow in Keonhee's side. It tickled, jostling him. "Go on, Hee. Go find your mom and sisters."

Keonhee normally would've given up a small argument and wandered off anyways. Not this time. Catching at Seoho's wrist, he tugged him along, ignoring the way his mouth fell open in surprise. 

"Come stand with us, hyung!" Keonhee insisted, pulling him along until he found his mother, clasping onto Hyeonhee's shoulders. She turned to acknowledge him, surprised at seeing Seoho trailing awkwardly behind him, but she bowed her head smally in greeting. Seoho returned the gesture.

"Nice to see you, Seoho." She said, her eyes flickering to Keonhee, "I hope you didn't drag the poor boy along to cause ruckus. This is important."

"I didn't!" Keonhee insisted, Seoho backing him up in a weaker echo. Seoho was always weird around his family, like he wasn't quite sure what to do or how to act. He had been alone for so long, longer than Keonhee had realized most days, so it was expected. A smaller crowd was always kinder to Seoho, so it was no wonder how he managed to get swallowed up in these meetings. Keonhee often had to wander around aimlessly until he found Seoho balancing scarily well at the top of a fence, sunset washing his figure. Like he wasn't apart of this world- like he was free to another realm. It was moments like those that had Keonhee wondering more closely about his usually comical, light-hearted friend. 

In this way, at least he could keep Seoho beside him for a moment longer. He could see if he'd manage to keep him tethered or if the string would be cut and he'd have to go on the search for him once more.

Seoho shifted his footing, gave Keonhee a wavering smile, before their attention was drawn sharply to the village chief. He stood at the head, big and bright, like he always was when he pulled them all together. Even though his thoughts began to fester with possibilities on what this could be about, he was still entranced by what the chief was selling. More so, what ideas he had that would fix the scare that ravaged their poor village. A part of him wondered if this proposal would even be something good. It wasn't like he thought the village chief was incompetent, he just knew what could happen in the midst of fear. He knew how irrational he himself could get, so he was more intrigued than anything. With that lingering thought, Keonhee folded his hands in front of him and waited.

"People," Chief Kim began, voice stony and firm, "you all know of the terror that has racked our village since the turn of winter last year. The unfortunate turn of events...what happened to Son Dongju..." He trailed off, searching the crowd for the faces of the Son family. Keonhee's own stare drew instinctively, watching as Dongmyeong pressed his face into his palms, his best friend Giwook wrapping his arms around him for comfort. It was such a heartbreaking sight that Keonhee had no choice but to look forward. Chief Kim cleared his throat and faced forward once more.

"As you know, my son Youngjo has been staying in the woods trying to gather some information. I am worried about him and his choices, dearly, but he is intelligent. Intelligent and strong- and knows what he's doing." Chief Kim weaned, the people around Keonhee leaning forward out of sympathy. Could they not hear how sugary his words were? How they leaned more towards lies than truth? Keonhee's stomach churned. Kim Youngjo was infamously famous of the village; an intellect who seemed to be too intense, too knowledgeable. Everyone believed that he had left on a freespirited mission to figure out what lurks beyond. People didn't cry for him like they did Dongju, even though they suspected he might not return. The woods were ravenous and cruel, yet they bid Youngjo off with a dipped head and fakely sad eyes. Keonhee quite liked Youngjo- at least, he liked what he knew of him. They crossed paths a few times, usually when Keonhee was tiredly stumbling too the schoolhouse in his adolescent years. Youngjo would give him a smile, eyes fixated on Keonhee like he had his full intention, and would make a comment about the cloudy sky above like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Sometimes, if it was drizzling, he'd offer Keonhee his umbrella. 

When he left for the woods, Keonhee was genuinely upset. He missed seeing Youngjo sit on the footsteps of stores or random houses, sketchpad in hand and the peek of tongue between his lips as he scratched away at the paper with a sharpened pencil. He missed watching him monologue to himself, drifting through the corners and knicks that made up the village. He was popular because his charisma was killer, regardless of eccentric habits. He was looked down upon because of the people who saw past the toothy smile and freely given attention. Keonhee thought he was a unique soul among the herd of sheep, much like Seoho was to him, so to lose him was a shame. To see these people pretend that they mourned him was more infuriating than he would've initially thought.

"He has sent me a letter-" Chief Kim reached into his jacket pocket, pulling a slightly crumbled, folded piece of paper, "Relaying all the details of information he's gathered throughout his time in the woods."

"So he's not dead." Seoho muttered beside him. It was obviously meant to be a comment to himself, but it drew Keonhee's gaze to him anyways. When caught, Seoho only shrugged halfheartedly. Keonhee scrunched his face up, turning back to the chief.

"He's told tales of the Forest Spirit. What it looks like, what it wants." Chief Kim opened the letter, but kept it close to him, for only his eyes to see. His eyebrows furrowed as he read and Keonhee realized just how _plain_ the chief was. He didn't have the same cool handsomeness his son had, yet there was the same resemblance in coal black eyes and milky skin, heart shaped lips and the slope to his nose. "And he says it wants blood."

Gasps rippled throughout the crowd. Keonhee spun like a spinning top, seeing the sea of wide eyes and parted lips, hands raising to cover mouths, color draining from cheeks. 

"The blood of the youth, in fact." Chief Kim continued. Keonhee didn't need to look around to know the mothers were holding their children close to them protectively, as his mother had done the gesture with his own sisters. "To appease the ancient spirits, we must give a sacrifice every spring to save our village. Remain out of the woods, close together, in this village. If we do what the spirit asks and remain isolated, surely it couldn't reflect badly on us. Perhaps it'll let us live."

There were fearful murmurs of what to do. Keonhee hummed to himself, though his heart began to pick up in speed out of his own fear. He began counting the heads of the younger ones there, the ones who would be considered a reasonable sacrifice. He wondered who it'd be, who would be chosen to be sent to the woods. 

"Damn," Seoho whistled lowly, obviously unbothered, "That's cold."

Keonhee shouldn't be surprised. Seoho was anchored to no one, was promised to no one. He liked to pretend deadened, rueful moods didn't exist. He liked to pretend everything was better than it was. It was something Keonhee often admired, but when he felt himself spiral, it only proved to be annoying. He felt his hands clam up, his palms itching. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and forced himself to breathe slower, to calm down. He didn't want to see any of the kids be sent off, crying and snot nosed, to the wood to be eaten by whatever _this_ was. He didn't want to see one less happy soul skipping in the middle of the square, gape toothed and alight with life not yet lived. 

"The spirit has already written the name of the person of who he wants." Chief Kim swallowed thickly. Sparks flew at the aspect of the spirit knowing who lived within the little town, and they watched with bated breath as the chief reached back into his pocket for a smaller, browning piece of paper. With shaking hands, he unfolded it and turned it out to the crowd.

"What? What does it say?" Keonhee asked, anxiously pushing himself on his tiptoes to see what it said. He was taller than average, bordering six feet, yet at the angle the chief stood, he couldn't see what it said when he turned the opposite direction. It was apparently something shocking, as the people who did get to see looked like fish out of water over it. Their heads turned so quickly Keonhee feared they'd break their necks, but they eventually leveled out on his family. His head whipped down to his sisters, who clutched at their mother's hands. 

Just when he thought he'd have to defend one of his sisters from an evil, cruel fate- the chief turned towards them, holding the paper directly for him to see. 

**LEE KEONHEE** _._

Bold, black letters, torn from the sharp point of a pen. Inked sloppy, staining from fingers unused to the motions. 

Keonhee's breath caught in his throat, eyes bugging out and ears ringing so loud it made his head spin. He must've stumbled back, as he bumped into Seoho's chest, feeling an arm wrap around him to steady him.

"Keonhee? Hee, can you hear me?" Seoho's voice was nothing right against his ear, his mother's wail mixing in with it. He could vaguely feel her fingers brush along his cheeks, down his neck, trying to hold onto him as though it'd stop the chief from making this decision. Well, not the chief, but this apparent spirit. He didn't even know what was going on. Just that his mother wasn't going to fight for him, that the _youth_ wanted was a bit older than anyone could've expected. That it was him.

Of fucking course.

Just Keonhee's luck, he was chosen to be the annual sacrifice to the unruly, deranged spirit that lived beyond the village.

"Whaaaat?" His voice came to him, breathlessly surprised, shaking his head clear of the panic that threatened to smother him. "What?"

"I'm sorry, son." Chief Kim looked so fake standing before him, "I'm sorry. It's what they want."

Keonhee met his eye. At once, he felt swarmed with something sinister, even as the people around him grasped at his arms and pulled at his shirt. He felt jostled, even though Seoho didn't budge. Didn't release him, not even when his sisters clung to him and soaked the fabric through with their tears. Even as Keonhee tried to process what was going on - and _why_ \- himself.

"Keonhee? Keonhee..."

This was the most stupid idea he's ever heard. What a joke.

"Keonhee!"

This had to be a plot of some sort. Keonhee knew how the village viewed him, how they didn't want him.

"Oh, come on!" Keonhee protested, breath catching painfully in his throat, tightening it painfully, "You can't be serious."

"I'm sorry," Chief Kim repeated, more sternly, more pressing: "It's what the spirits want."

Ah.

Keonhee understands why Youngjo was sent off now. Why he was discarded like nothing.

Metting the chief's cold eyes, he lowered his face. Ah, he was always weak to authority. 

It wasn't his fault they couldn't handle the critics, yet here he was paying the price.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Keonhee was set to go by morning.

It was a restless night. His mother, curled up beside him in bed, his sisters squashing him from the other side. Lots of tears, some not being his own. Keonhee would've thought that in a situation like this, he'd be terrified beyond belief. He was, in a way. A voice in the back of his head tells him he should be, and perhaps he should listen to it. He should let the terror engulf him until he can't think of anything else, can't be anything else but scared. However, despite all odds, he couldn't find himself to be afraid. He was more numb than anything, not letting the situation process entirely. It was stupid. It was terribly, utterly, insanely stupid. This was the worst idea anyone could have, even more terrible that the village- the people he grew up around, the people he trusted- were so willing to let him go for their own selfish goods. Keonhee wanted to standin the square and scream out his questions. _What proof do they have that this spirit will sink them? What proof do they have that it's malevolent, that it's even evil? What proof do they have that it even exists?_

He already knows the response he'd get. _He's lost his mind, send him off- it's for the better._

That night, once his mother and sisters fell asleep with rosied, sticky cheeks, Keonhee not-so-gracefully slipped his way out of bed. He pulled on his shoes, straightened his jacket on broad shoulders, and took one look back at his family. The sadness must have dropped them in a deep sleep, since they didn't rise at his jerky movements and slight noise. After taking one last forlorn look, he headed out to the old barn.

"There you are," Seoho greeted the second Keonhee pulled himself up off the old ladder with labored breathing. He swirled a bottle of something- fruity soda, judging by the looks of it. What a way to be sent out. "I was starting to think you'd never come."

"That ladder is going to give way any day now." Keonhee huffed, "It's seriously rotting from the inside out. One day, it's going to break and you're going to fall and hurt yourself bad."

Seoho hummed. 

"I'm serious, hyung. You should repair it before the summer. You know it gets too hot then, and I don't need you melting."

Seoho hummed again. Keonhee furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if he was even listening to him. He turned to face him fully then, watching Seoho idly watch the liquid slosh around the glass bottle. After a moment, he reached beside him and pulled another one out of his bag. Keonhee gratefully took it. 

"Strawberry, just how you like it." Seoho said, leaning back and watching as Keonhee struggled to open it. He hissed as he sliced his finger open on the sharp edge, causing Seoho to snort and take it from him, opening it in a way that only Seoho could. Despite being clumsy, he had some grace to him.

"Thanks." Keonhee said, sipping at the edge, cringing at the initial fuzz that caused his lips to crackle and burn. He sighed deeply, kicking his legs over the edge of the barn's roof, eyeing the dirt below.

"Don't talk like that, by the way." Seoho said after a heartbeat of silence.

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to leave for good." Seoho didn't meet his eyes, but Keonhee understood why. Seoho wasn't one to show his true feelings on matters where he couldn't make happiness out of it. This was something he felt was going to be hopeless- a place where he couldn't see light at the end of the tunnel. Keonhee was almost offended, if he didn't know Seoho had thought through this. His friend had considered all possible angles and had come to the conclusion of each one: Keonhee wasn't coming back. 

Was he?

"Man, you make it sound like I'm doomed or something." Keonhee took a long drink of the soda, the electrical strawberry flavor burning his tongue, trying to drown out the worries that ate away at him, "I already know what I'm going to do."

"What's that?" Seoho asked, tone drooping in a sad song.

"I'm just going to hide in the forest for a day. I'll come back when I feel enough time has passed." Keonhee said, like it was easier done than spoken. Seoho knew this, giving him a withering look.

"They expect you to travel deep within the woods. Follow the dug path and all that. They'll only give you enough supplies for a one-way trip, so it's not like you can travel there, wait it out for a bit, then come back all in one piece. Not to mention, the animals..." Seoho did a full body shiver, fingers clutching the bottle tightly. "They'll eat you alive."

Keonhee's stomach lurched at the thought and for a moment he felt like he was going to throw up. "Not like they can't do that on the way there."

"Right," Seoho agreed, miserably, "but they'll pray to whatever deity is out there that Forest Spirit will protect you on your journey."

"Protect me on my journey just so it can slaughter me itself, right." Keonhee snorted, "Don't tell me you believe in that bullshit too."

"I don't know, Hee." Seoho sighed, leaning back with a deep exhale, "I just know I'm going to pray to whoever's listening to at least protect you until sunset."

Keonhee looked at him, puzzled. "What? You want me to be torn apart as soon as night comes?" He joked, although it fell flat. Seoho cringed.

"No, dummy." He punched Keonhee's arm, weakly. Keonhee made a low, ghoulish noise, leaning back like he was hurt. "I'm a little offended you didn't think that I would come after you."

Keonhee's eyes widened, "Hyung-"

Seoho grinned, lazily. His smile always looped, always claimed to be a pretty thing by the older women who didn't get to see him at his worst yet. "That's right."

Keonhee wasn't sure what to say. Was he touched? Of course he was. He didn't think that anyone would come after him. Not even Seoho, his closest friend. Seoho was not tied to anyone. Most days, Keonhee felt like he wasn't even connected to him on such levels. They were casual friends and nothing more- someone Keonhee treasured more than he was being treasured himself. He didn't think Seoho would cry for him, let alone come after him. He hadn't been kept up at night with the thought that his friend might not even be too bothered of his disappearance. Seoho was lonely before him and could certainly cope being lonely after him. 

"Just wait until the sun is down, Hee." Seoho smacked his lips once more, "Don't stray far and I'll come get you."

"Where will we go then?" Keonhee asked, "There has to be a plan to go about this."

"I don't know where we'll go, what'll happen, but I'll figure it out." Seoho shrugged, "Just give me that amount of time. That's all I ask."

He was acting like Keonhee was running on borrowed time. After saying this aloud, Seoho grinned.

"You're always late, Keonhee." He said, words dripping and fond, "Don't be late this time or I might just start thinking something terrible happened to you."

"Please," Keonhee scoffed, rolling his eyes. That was it, that was all he could say. He wasn't sure if there was anything else he _could_ say. There was something heavy in Seoho's words, weighing him down.

"I'm serious." Seoho choked down the soda, licking the droplets off his lips when he lowered it once more. It looked painful, like the mere act was an attempt to mask something entirely different. "Don't go far. I don't want to lose you."

"Please," Keonhee repeated, softer, "You'll find me."

"Don't go hiding now." Seoho scolded, reaching a hand up to cuff Keonhee on the back of the head. He looked at him like he didn't trust himself to save him from the horrible fate laid down by people who could care less about him.

"I'm loud and chatty and tall." Keonhee reminded him, jutting his chin proudly in the air, "I'm not as good at hiding as you are."

"Thank God for that." Seoho said, ending the conversation there.

Keonhee didn't think there was much to be said. Sure, there should be a lot that should be said. Teary goodbyes, recollection on their friendship. Moments that made them laugh until they cried, made them annoyed, made them at peace. Seoho was good at talking like that; he could paint the memories in colors until Keonhee was basically reliving them. Keonhee was good at rambling, filling in the missing details Seoho either misconstrued or forgot. They'd work together as a team, figure it out. But Seoho didn't like to talk about those things. Didn't like to be seen. It'd be almost pointless to attempt, since he'd close up like a shell and burrow himself away from the heartbreak that threatened to shatter him apart.

Maybe Keonhee was more important to him than he previously thought, after all.

He taps his nail on the glass bottle in a quick, gentle rhythm, creating a hollow sound that almost sounds mournful. Ahead, the sky begins to lighten with the touches of sunshine and an eager blue.

Seoho lifts his bottle to the sky.

"-And the food. Don't forget the food. Keep it close to you, so wanderers and creatures don't take it off your back." His mother fretted, tightening the straps to his shoulders, making sure the pack wouldn't fall off no matter what. Keonhee grumbled at this; he had always been a slender, easy man when it came to the physical sort. He could endure, but he was a rag doll at the mercy of those stronger than him. He couldn't count the number of times Seoho's given him bruises or cuts or sore muscles when they'd play wrestle. That man was lithe, strong. Keonhee was no match for whatever being lurked beyond their safe haven, feral and deranged and hungry.

He almost shivered at the thought.

"Mooom, I'll be fine." He complained as she pulled the cloak's hood over his head, protecting him from the chilly weather. It was as though he needed to be protected in the first place. He loved his mother, but she was hypocritical. She was not fighting for him when she had fought for him her entire life. _Maybe it was better this way._ He thought, meeting eyes with his terrified sisters. _Maybe she thinks it's better to give up one child for the sake of two others._

A part of him understood. A part of him hated that. He was torn down the middle in the most terrible way imaginable.

"I'll be back before you know it." His eyebrows rose, lips forming the words convincingly, even as his mother tilted her head in doubt. He hated that. Hated how she was so convinced that he wouldn't come back, that he wouldn't _fight_ to come back. Keonhee was weak-hearted, but not weak-willed. He wouldn't go down without a fight, no matter how scary it got. If this was how he was going to go, so be it, but he wouldn't let the world get the best of him.

Not like this. Anything but this.

Keonhee's feet feel heavy as he's lead to the edge of the town. Maybe if he worked out seriously, he would be able to tear through the crowd without care. Maybe he'd be able to fight against them, but people like this- scared, defenseless people who want to protect themselves, their loved ones- know no mercy. They'd gladly give him up to evil if it meant that them and everything they knew would be safe and sound. Keonhee couldn't blame them, in the end. Wouldn't he do the same? 

Looking over his shoulder, he saw his mother hanging back, cradling his sister to him as Hyeonhee stared at him with big, teary eyes.

Hovering closer, tucked under a drooping tree, Seoho stood with his arms crossed. He watched, unnoticed by anyone but Keonhee. He rose his chin, adverted his eyes for a brief moment, before looking back to Keonhee. Whatever emotion that was there before was gone, struck off the map of his features that Keonhee knew well. Curious, he rose an eyebrow, slowly. Seoho only rose a hand, cupped it around his mouth to speak.

"Yah, Keonhee!" He called out, stopping everyone for a brief moment as they turned to look at him, "Keonhee, do you have any last words?!"

Keonhee smiled, slowly. _You make me sound like I'm being executed old-French style._ _Like this is a movie, like this is an action film where I karate-chop and end all the bad guys. Where I survive in the end_.

That's what he would've said.

Instead, his eyes shook as he faced forward, puffing his chest. He walks into the forest without looking back.

The courage only lasts as long as the visible sunlight does. After about what seems like forever of aimlessly walking, Keonhee's senseless paranoia gets the best of him. A snapping twig has him double thinking the rationality that it was a simple squirrel. Rustling leaves convinces him that some violent beast is going to tear from the bush and skin him alive. He couldn't calm his racing heart, couldn't stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Keonhee preferred when he got scared all at once, when the fear gripped him and shook him alive, instead of the creeping sickness that came with gradual terror. He could feel his muscles tense, throwing him every which way to get away from a misplaced noise. He hated everything about this, everything about the forest. The backpack felt too heavy, the cloak too warm despite the spring being rather cool. Summer was a few months away, so at least he didn't have to worry about the bristling heat. Even if his anxiety had him feel hot all over, cheeks most likely flushed and perspiration beading at his hairline, anyways.

"Happy thoughts, Keonhee. Happy thoughts." He repeated to himself in frantic little whispers, eyes flickering around to keep an eye on his surroundings. He hated squirrels that didn't show themselves, but he hated birds that swooped too low most of all. If he felt them prick at the fluttering tip of his hood, it was over. He'd wave his thin arms around, desperately trying to ward them off. He was going to give himself a heart attack before he even got to the woodland destination he was meant to reach.

"Should I stop for a food break?" He asked himself when his stomach rumbled emptily to no one. He glanced around, decided that there were no obvious tell-tale signs to wolves or bears lurking, and when he crossed into his favorite meadow, he shrugged off his sack and sat down, settling it in front of him. Licking his lips, he pushed the top open, rummaging inside it. His mother would've packed his favorite snacks, would have sent him off well as a last sign that she loved him. He sighed, pitifully.

Holding out the two choices in front of him, Keonhee tried to debate what sounded better. Crinkling both of them, as if that'd help him decide. He was bordering on choosing the chips when the air suddenly sweetened, like someone spun cotton candy before him. Crinkling his nose, he turned when a flash of light shadowed his entire body in the grass before him. Not a blade swayed. Not a blade moved.

Keonhee whipped around to look behind him, heart stuck in his throat and eyes almost falling out his head at what he saw. 

A man stood there. Was that the proper term? _Someone_ stood there. He was small in height and petite in body, definitely more unique-looking than anyone Keonhee has ever seen in his life. His hair was ashen pale, pastel coloring spun in locks and pushed away from his forehead. Glittery markings lined his cheekbones, eyes large and inquisitive more than anything. It was the shocking bubblegum color of his irises that made Keonhee lightheaded. Nothing about this man was real. Nothing about this man was _human_. 

"I think I'd go with the chips rather than the candy bar. Personal preference, honestly, but you look like you might need some sugar to keep you going, so I'd go with th- hey, guy? Guy? Oh, damn..."

The pixie guy's voice drifted out of conscious until it completely spun away from him.

Without much else done for him, Keonhee fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

_ "And when he wakes up, what are we going to tell him..." _

__

_ "The truth, maybe, for one thing..." _

__

_ "And what's your version of the truth...!" _

__

Keonhee's head swirled with the conflicting familiarity and unfamiliarity. Some tones were familiar, others lost. A smooth, cool voice followed by a sharp ended wiry tone. Keonhee opened his eyes, blurry vision focusing on the warm hue of a ceiling. It wasn't wide, so he had to assume the building he was in was small enough as it is. He tried to count down from ten, gather himself before he ended up losing his mind in a full blown panic attack. It wasn't everyday he encountered some strange manic pixie men only to pass out in his favorite meadow. Before he could get that sweet, sweet sugar infused heart palpations. Damn.

"I think he's awake." The voice was clearer, sharper now, and Keonhee's entire body stiffened. His lips pressed tightly, blinking wildly before he squeezed his eyes shut altogether. The vivid orange highlights to his inner eyelids suddenly turned jet black. He tucked his hands under his resting thighs to ensure he wasn't seen trembling of all things. He had a role to play, after all.

"...I know you're not asleep." A voice he knew fairly well said, provoking Keonhee to open his eyes at once. Staring down at him was the Cheshire grin of Kim Youngjo, almost just as cleanly handsome as he last saw him. His hair was lighter this time, a dusty brown with foresty green coloring weaving his bangs. He looked happy, happier than he was in the village, surrounded by homebounds. Keonhee was expecting him to be secretly dead or withering away from lack of supplies, or someone who was grungy and livingin the caverns nearby. He wasn't expecting this: a glowing Youngjo who had all the light in his eyes, a pearly smile pushing up into his pink cheeks, and mirth in his expression. Keonhee had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing him right.

"Y-Youngjo-ssi-" 

"Keonhee," Youngjo called him, informally and happily, "imagine my surprise when Woongie dragged you here."

Keonhee's eyes flickered behind Youngjo, seeing the same pixie man from before. He seemed more dressed up in the lamp light, giving a small wave. There were small details Keonhee hadn't noticed before, like the way this Woongie's lips seemed to shimmer, or the roped vine closed tightly around his throat like a choker, blooming his skin red and thorns pushing outwards. His chest would sputter every so often, eyes bleary and half-lidded. He didn't seem to like that he was being ogled at so closely, reaching a hand behind him and turning his face. Youngjo cleared his throat, politely drawing Keonhee back to his more natural face. 

He seemed to be expecting someting, but Keonhee wasn't sure what at first. Then it hit him.

"I was exiled. From the village." He explained, curling his fingers around the blanket. It was scratchy, rough against his palms, but it oddly comforted him at the same time. "They think the Forest Spirit in the woods wants the blood of someone chosen. I guess I was chosen." He sighed, letting it linger, before a realization struck him. He sat up so fast that he knocked heads with Youngjo, causing them both to groan and for Keonhee to end up right back where he was, this time clutching his head and withering in pain.

"Idiots," Woongie the Pixie Boy grumbled.

"You sent the letter! You said it was me!" Keonhee accused, though it held no bite. He was more whiny than anything, because even if Youngjo was the one to condemn him to death, he couldn't be mad at him. Youngjo just had that effect on people, he supposed. 

Though, instead of being met with a sheepish smile, Youngjo's eyes widened instead. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you sent me to die!" Keonhee shrieked, causing Woongie to flinch. "Chief Kim read your letter and my name out to the entire village!"

"Hey, hey- Keonhee, calm down! Woong, juice please?" Youngjo sent the pixie a pointed look, who only sighed in dismay before shuffling to the mini fridge tucked in the corner. He pulled it open, dug around for a second, then delivered the juice box to Youngjo's awaiting palm. He passed it to Keonhee, who took it in his flurry with a hurriedness, poking the straw through the top and drinking eagerly. Youngjo reached into the backpack, dumping the bag of chips onto Keonhee's lap, who then proceed to tear them open with a vigor.

"Calm down there, tiger." Youngjo chuckled, though Keonhee narrowed his eyes at him, "I didn't do it. I didn't write that letter- would never ask for someone to be sacrificed, for God's sake..."

"So then who did it?" Keonhee asked around a mouthful of chips. Not demanding, not intimidating, but a little confused and desperate. Why was he here? If the letters were fake, couldn't he just go home?

"I don't know, but I have a feeling my father might've done it." Youngjo shook his head, and all hope of ever returning plummeted along with Keonhee's stomach. His appetite was on thin ice. "He's never been able to accept those who might think differently than him. If you're a stray, you're kicked out." He clicked his tongue, leaning back. Woongie, who seemed to be either tired of the disconnect or bored of the conversation, fluttered over to Youngjo and draped an arm over his shoulders, leaning heavily on his heels. He seemed weightless, not even swaying Youngjo one way or another.

"So, they exiled me because I'm too cool for them? Seems legit." Keonhee snorted, "So, what, were they hoping for me to die in the woods? What would they do if I came back and stood at the end of the entrance and just screamed at them?"

"Sounds bothersome," Woongie mused, eyes lit up with interest at the attitude Keonhee portrayed, "The screaming, I mean."

"They deserve it for being so rude." Keonhee grumbled, wanting to smush his face into the pillow and just lay there for eternity. Youngjo observed him for a second before sighing.

"The thing is...they're not even wrong about the Forest Spirit." Youngjo spoke up, which Keonhee scoffed at. "I'm serious- he exists. Hwanwoong here is a fairy who used to help him time to time."

"Didn't look like he was very nice." Keonhee eyed the thorned necklace, which had Hwanwoong subconsciously pull at.

"He was very kind," Hwanwoong corrected, a little edged to boot. Keonhee recoiled at the icy tone. "Very gentle. This...isn't because of him. It's not his fault he was turned like this."

"Turned?" Keonhee inquired, lost.

"The Forest Spirit was very noble and soft-hearted. He minded his own business and did his own thing without a bother. Most people left him alone- creatures and humans alike. It was ages ago when it happened- Gosh," Hwanwoong scratched behind his ear, nose crinkling with distasteful thoughts, "Corruption is a terrible thing. It was not his fault."

"Wait, so he does actually take blood?" Keonhee squeaked, alarmed. Hwanwoong nodded, sorrowfully. "Why?"

"It was like a pandemic- the curse, I mean. It swept through our species like a plague. Hyung tried, he really did, but-" Hwanwoong swallowed thickly, wincing when the vines pulled tighter. Youngjo frowned, reaching up to brush a thumb over the apple of his cheek, lips pursing in concern. Hwanwoong didn't shrug him off, but shied away slightly. "There are some things not even the strongest can fight against."

"Oh." Keonhee deadpanned.

"It's started effecting the rest of us. That's why I have this," The fairy gestured to his throat, "I've started growing weaker this past autumn. I can barely fly and I find myself more fatigued than usual." He breathed in, softly, eyelashes fluttering. After gawking at him for a second, Keonhee couldn't help but notice just how unreal he looked. How unreally _sick_ he looked as well. His eyes were sunken, shadowed, dull. He held off of Youngjo like a feather about to drift into air, his eyelids drooping and blueish lips pulling sourly. Youngjo turned to him, tugging gently on his wrist until the fairy seemed to catch the hint, gracefully spinning around the chair to land lightly in Youngjo's lap. With a sigh, Youngjo leaned in and nuzzled against the back of Hwanwoong's neck, breathing in deeply. Keonhee itched to mimic him, just to see if there was anything different about this being. Did he smell naturally of lemongrass and fresh air? Did he smell like nothing scented, nothing ever seen before? Was he rare, unique? Was there a difference between humans and fairies?

Keonhee had a lot of questions, none focusing around the way that Youngjo lifted a hand and carefully card it through his hair. It shimmered under the warm light, not any one color. 

Youngjo seemed to realize this, lifting his gaze to Keonhee instead. "Aren't you wondering?"

"I'm wondering a lot of things." Keonhee confirmed.

"On why I'm holding him like this? So intimiately?"

"Oh, hyung." Hwanwoong huffed, lightly hitting his fist against Youngjo's broad shoulder. It rumbled a chuckle from him.

Keonhee blinked, "No, I wasn't wondering that, actually." He said, much to Youngjo's surprise, "I guess you must like each other a lot."

"We're in love," Youngjo said, a dreamy smile stretching across his face. A faraway look casted his eyes and he glanced down to Hwanwoong, who was too busy nosing along his neck to really care. Youngjo shivered, and Keonhee thought it was about to get weird, until Hwanwoong lifted his head and did a full body shiver himself. He must be cold. 

"Here," Keonhee picked a blanket strewn from the bed, lifting it up for Hwanwoong to take. He eyed it, made like he was going to shake his head, before Youngjo scoffed and took it carefully from Keonhee's expecting hand. 

"Thank you," He said instead, tucking the blanket around Hwanwoong's shoulders. His lips pursed in protest, but the warmth seemed to overtake the bitterness, as he melted into Youngjo's arms easily. Keonhee's expression pinched. Was Hwanwoong going to be okay? 

He didn't realize he asked this out loud until Hwanwoong sighed, softly.

"To put it simply- no." He said, turning his head, cheek smushed against Youngjo's shoulder. "I won't be okay until this goddamn curse if lifted."

"Will you die?" Keonhee asked, curiosity working quicker than his common sense, deep brown eyes round with horror at the mere thought. He didn't know Hwanwoong well, but he was pitiful in appearance. Small, clingy, and pretty; pretty things shouldn't die. There shouldn't even be a chance at them dying. They were Gods favorite, such as was beauty, so why cut them too soon? Keonhee didn't understad where Hwanwoong, a fairy of the Earth, was meant to wither away at some unforgiving curse. Were there monsters out there who despised fresh little creatures, blooming at the season's greeting? Who hated their light colors, fingerprints that pressed something new into the mud, comically large eyes and smooth skin? Keonhee used to hate those kinds of people, too. People that were gushed over by those around them. Heart shaped eyes and mouths covered in awe- it wasn't hard to tell that Keonhee had an awkward phase growing up. Seoho was much the same, hence why they managed to befriend one another in the first place.

His stomach hurt. The juice didn't sate it, no matter how desperately he drank from the straw.

"What a bold question." Hwanwoong muttered, but gave a nod to confirm the worst fears. He sighed again, "The curse kills off fairies like me. My lifespan isn't certain- it depends, really. This is as closest as I've come to death in a while."

"The sacrifices..." Keonhee began, hesitantly, "Do they matter?" Hwanwoong looked to him, quizzical, so he was quick to clarify: "Your life. Do the sacrifices keep you alive?"

"Why are you asking this?" Youngjo asked, voice sharper than needed, when Hwanwoong moved to open his mouth. Keonhee could read the pain on his face; he'd be devastated if something happened to his lover. He couldn't barely sit through a discussion where Hwanwoong's end was inevitable. If there is no sacrifice, then Hwanwoong, and God knows who else, will die. 

Keonhee wouldn't have that.

"What were you planning on doing with me?" He countered instead, leaning back on his hands, "You've had to have a plan when Hwanwoong found me in the forest."

Youngjo gulped, tongue darting out to wet his lips, "We were planning on keeping you here, of course. Until the worst is over and you have found a new home to go to."

Kind of him. Keonhee's heart warmed. He should thank him for being so generous, so compassionate, to his situation.

"We aren't that close." He said instead. Youngjo recoiled.

"That's hurtful of you to say." He said, lightly, as always. Youngjo always spoke with a certain air about him, like he was walking on clouds, barefoot and free. Other times, he was hard-hitting with his words, as cutting as a blade carefully sharpened but quickly jabbed. 

"We aren't that close," Keonhee repeated, a bit slowly this time despite his rushing need to speak quickly, "So you shouldn't feel bad about wanting me to go to the spirit."

Youngjo fell silent at that. Everything about him was steely, yet cotton at the edges, per usual. Youngjo was never black nor white, which probably made this conflict hard for him. His morality and slight bond with Keonhee begged him not to send him on his way, but his love and dedication to Hwanwoong wanted him to go anyways. He understood. He can't say he'd be any different if he were in Youngjo's shoes as well. He'd want his lover to survive, first and foremost. 

He didn't look away. Youngjo didn't, either.

"So, I want to go to the woods. I want to meet this Spirit and I want to help you two." Keonhee sighed, despite the way his chest ached at the mere thought of dying. "As long as you convince him not to make it painful." He looked pointedly to Hwanwoong, who didn't budge from his position. He looked mournful, eyes closing in quiet relent. Keonhee, once again, can't blame him. He wants to live. Wouldn't anyone?

"You want to go meet hyung?" Hwanwoong asked slowly, as if clarifying. Keonhee nodded. Pausing, Hwanwoong pushed himself up. His shoulders seemed to catch, face scrunching in pain as he did so. Youngjo's hands immediately slid under his shoulders, fingers pressing into his aching muscles to relieve some pressure through gentle massaging. Hwanwoong's face darkened, as if realizing something.

"You will die." He said, like Keonhee didn't know.

"Yeah."

"You're so young. Dying is not on your list- shouldn't be, at least."

"Okay, and what about it?" Keonhee rose his eyebrows, facing Hwanwoong head on. The fairy's eyebrows rose slowly, meeting his gaze without a second of hesitation. Slowly, Keonhee smiled.

"Help me get to the woods. How long does it take to get there?" He pretended to stretch, just to look busy. "How long?"

"A little over a day, give or take. The entrance of the cavern changes every so often, usually after every sacrifice." Youngjo said, "You won't be able to find it on your own."

"I know how to get there. I'll help, but first- we'll need to stock up on supplies for all of us. Youngie and I don't have enough for us to go along as well." Hwanwoong lifted himself off of his lover with a deep sigh, "So, we'll have to venture back to the village to get what we need."

"Keonhee and I can't go- we're exiled, and if they catch sight of us..." Youngjo trailed off.

"I know, that's while I'll go. I have my celestial form, at the very least. I'll be able to get around." Hwanwoong offered, and he spoke with such bravery, Keonhee didn't realize it would be a tough conquest until then. Hwanwoong also looked very ill- like he needed to lie down and let the fever sweat out. Keonhee would've suggested this had Hwanwoong not move to the doorway, sliding on his sandles. He paused to throw a pile of clothes around, picking a crushed fabric bag from it. He shook it out, sliding it over his shoulder. 

"I'll be back in a few hours." He announced, slipping from the house before anyone had a say in it. Keonhee looked to Youngjo, as if he had an explanation. The older man was only smiling dopily at the door, and when he caught Keonhee's eye, looked to him with an even bigger smile.

"Woongie is a stubborn one. He's always like this- has to have his way, has to do his own thing." There was not an ounce of resentment in Youngjo's voice, only fond endearment. He smiled wider. "That's how I know he'll survive this."

Keonhee let out a small, awkward chuckle.

He was happy for Hwanwoong's survival, but it didn't feel great to know he had no chance at his own.

He folded his hands into the blanket and slumped down, waiting for the fairy to come back to lead him to the end.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Human villages aren't something that Hwanwoong was used to. 

Sure, he's seen them time to time as he fluttered by. Usually in the form of a butterfly, his wings impossibly colored with silver and glittering with each delicate sway. Keonhee's village was simple compared to the other ones he's seen- all clay-like colors, browns and grays and muddy reds. It was nice, homey, but not as differing as Hwanwoong liked to see. He didn't like the extravagant golds that lined royal kingdoms and he certainly didn't like smudged out monochromes that washed away with a rainy day. He liked this- classic enough but not overdone. He almost got lost observing from the sky that he forgot what he was supposed to do. 

His thin legs landed on a leaf just behind the village, listening intently for noise around him before shifting back to his humanoid form. When the children's squeals were far enough away, Hwanwoong pressed himself against the wall of the house closest to his hiding spot. Peeking around the edge, he darted to the largest place there: the community hall. Or, at least, what he assumed to be. There could be people rustling around him and he wouldn't be snapped from his line of sight. He had a mission to do and he'd do it. No matter the cost, he'd do it.

Hwanwoong always moved with confidence. He couldn't afford to be scared. He couldn't afford to let the waves pull him under. He was someone who had to overcome any and every obstacle he faced. Where he grew up, in the Hollow, he hadn't had a chance to prove himself. He was the so-called runt, despite being an only child, he was smaller than the kids around him. He took too long to learn to fly. He couldn't find his grace until he was a little older than the others. All his life, the odds were against him. He had gave himself the strength to overcome them- and he did. 

Youngjo asked Hwanwoong daily if he was scared. Mostly, it involved Hwanwoong curled up against his chest, ear pressed to his heart, listening to the steady beating. Youngjo's hand would be in his hair, fingertips dancing down his spine, comforting him from his ailing. Mostly, it revolved around the topic of death. Hwanwoong had tried to drown out Youngjo's tender ramblings, because as much as he was washed in love and concern, Hwanwoong didn't want to think about the line of thorns that had seized him by the neck. He didn't want to think about the fatigue, nor the shadows under his eyes, nor the way his nose bleeds when he wakes up in the morning. He doesn't want to think about that fucking curse, think about what it's doing to him, or what it's doing to his people. 

But he does. He's forced to be confronted about it often. 

_"Are you scared of dying, baby?" Youngjo asks, his voice as soft as rain on the roof of their house during a kind downpour. These were the kind of questions Youngjo liked to discuss. All deep and all talk, physiological and contemplating. Hwanwoong was more accustomed to meeting them curled up in bed with his lover, tracing stars into his chest as he was held close by comforting arms. Not hunched over on the toilet seat as Youngjo dabs blood from his lips._

_"No," Hwanwoong would reply every time, "No, I'm not."_

_He always had trouble meeting Youngjo's eyes, dark and sad, like a kicked puppy._

The crinkling of plastic filled the otherwise empty kitchen as Hwanwoong shoved snack after snack into his bag. He knew that they'd need something more nutritious, but he didn't have time to scavenge for ingredients. His mind was working on adrenaline and the need to get out of there as soon as possible. After soaring through the air in his celestial form, he had concluded that this village was populous. He couldn't afford to get caught, but he also couldn't afford to be too slicked-fingered and end up grabbing things useless to them. So, packaged products were the way to go. 

He had just managed to find the larger cabinet, crouching down to sweep a bunch of water bottles into the bag. His arm bumped into a bunch of cans, sending them clanking and crashing against the tile floor. Cringing, Hwanwoong cursed under his breath as he pocketed a few cans before the bag got too heavy.

" _What the hell? You hear that?_ " A voice said from the dining area. Hwanwoong's heart thrummed in his chest, making quick work to clasp the bag shut and throw it over his shoulder. It dragged him back a bit, heavier than he expected, but he couldn't tell if that was because of his illness or the amount he grabbed. He wanted to get clothes, but it seems he was already risking too much. He had to get back, convince Youngjo to spare Keonhee some clothes that might ride a little too short on him, and start their trail to the woods.

Just as Hwanwoong's palm clutched the doorknob to the back door, the one leading into the kitchen swung open.

"Hey!" The person called again, just as loud, "Who are you?!"

Hwanwoong didn't wait. He didn't pay attention. He slammed the door open, bursting out with the intent to get away. His footsteps streaked the grass, held down by the weight of his sickness. His lungs burned and the inside of his nose stung, but he was insistent on getting out of there. He almost reached the safety of the trees, all until he was suddenly knocked over by something heavy. The contents of the bag shifted downwards, sending him falling sideways. Hwanwoong cried out as his side dug uncomfortably into the bag, stolen snacks and cans and bottles rolling free.

"You thief!" The person- a man, apparently- cried out. Hwanwoong's vision blurred from prickling tears, and he barely turned his head, panting, to see a man pushing himself up. He didn't seem too jostled by the fall, looking more elegant than Hwanwoong would've guessed from a squirrely boy like him. When he grimaced, it was toothy, scrunching his face. For a human, he wasn't so bad in looks, but Hwanwoong still thought that there was no way he could've gotten to him. 

He was off his game, though.

"Why are you stealing from us?!" The man demanded, stalking closer. Hwanwoong instinctively placed himself over the bag in an attempt to block him from getting his gather. He hesitated in his steps at this, standing a few feet away from Hwanwoong with his arms crossed, obviously irritated. He was close enough that if Hwanwoong slide down a bit, he could weakly kick at him. It wasn't a risk he'd be taking now, with his sore side and loss of breath. He was still struggling to catch up.

"You don't look like anyone around here- or anyone from _around_ here, really." The man kept talking, more so to himself than to Hwanwoong, which was kind of annoying in a situation like this. "Just who are you?"

"Is it...because of my nose?" Hwanwoong jested weakly, rolling himself over. With shaky hands, he tried to shove the snacks back into the bag, testing to see what the squirrel boy would do. If he'd stop him, if he'd watch him helplessly. It was times like this where Hwanwoong was grateful for his rare beauty, since it often took people by surprise, rendering them silent and in awe. However, it didn't seem to do much besides pique the boy's curiosities this time.

"What do you need our food for? Are you going to starve- you look healthy, if not a little...under the weather." He cringed. Hwanwoong took major offense to that.

"I'm trying- keyword, _trying_ \- to assist that poor boy you people sent to die in the woods." He heaved out, words jagged and a tiny bit breathless as he tried to hurriedly shove the cans back into the bag. "He wouldn't make it with what you gave him. Don't you consider preexisting appetites or the fact the Spirit might not be exactly where you believe him to be?"

"Wait- you know where Keonhee is?" Squirrel boy's eyes widened, and normally Hwanwoong would be frustrated at the dismissal of his words. However, when he looked to him and saw his eyes light up with sad recognition, he could only guess this might be someone close to Keonhee. 

"Yes," Hwanwoong answered, deciding it'd be simply to be honest since he had already given himself away.

Instead of comforting the boy, it had only sent him into a panic. He had moved to pull Hwanwoong up quicker than needed, clutching at his arms to keep him in place as he tried to squirm. He was stronger than he looked.

"Please, please take me to him. I can't- you can't let him go there, please-" 

The pleading was almost too much. Hwanwoong's sympathy was being pricked at in ways he hated. It was out of his control and no matter which way he twisted, he couldn't get out of the vice grip that he was held in. The boy shook him a bit and his footing gave, sliding back down and jabbing his hip into a can. He cried out in rage instead of pain.

"Let me go! Let me go, I'm not taking him to you. Let me _go_." He spat, twisting away, but the boy pulled him back up with strength probably driven with the need to see his friend once more. Could Hwanwoong fault him for this? Probably not, but he did anyways.

"So you want to kill him? Is this what this is?! You want him to die, you sick fuck, what- why, why are you-" The sputtering was senseless, carrying on with insults imaginable. Hwanwoong thought the message was lost; he didn't want to condemn Keonhee to his death, but he was selfish. He was selfish for so many reasons, so he'd allow Keonhee to go offer himself up to this dreadful curse. He'd let Keonhee take the lead without resistence. He knew that Youngjo was much the same and would give the same grievances. 

Truth was Hwanwoong was afraid of one thing when it came to death.

"Let me go-" Hwanwoong pulled away briefly, just to make a small break for it. However, something caught on the back of his sandal and sent him flying forward. He barely managed to swing his hands out to break his skull before the front of his head cracked against a stone embedded into the earth. Hwanwoong's ears rang, drowning out the sound around him. He slumped on his side, letting his vision dot and blacken before it swallowed him whole. The sound was last to go, muffled voices carrying him away to the inevitable.

_"Death has never scared me. It's a natural part of life and we all have our own time."_ _A pause. "I'm more afraid of leaving you, though."_

_"Why?"_ _Youngjo would ask, like the clueless idiot he was._

_"Because it involves leaving you." Hwanwoong would hesitate, before choosing to raise a hand to him. He'd caress Youngjo's cheek, basking in the feel of him. "I don't want to. Leave you, that is."_

_Youngjo would sigh and somehow it managed to be musical like the rest of him. Hwanwoong leans into him instinctively._

_"I want to save you from this." Youngjo would say._

_"This isn't something either of us can help." Hwanwoong would remind him. Youngjo's hands would clasp around his hand, bringing his fingers to his lips to press soft kisses along his fingerpads._

_"What if I-"_

_"Don't you dare even finish that sentence." Hwanwoong knew what was coming, because Youngjo was a selfless fool in love, and he'd die for it just as much. "I can't live without you."_

_"And I can't without you." Youngjo would be just as pressing with the matter, "What makes you think it'd be easier the other way, too?"_

_"It wouldn't. I can't imagine it would." Hwanwoong would snap, "But I'd rather it be me than you. You're so intelligent, Youngjo. You write constantly- it's like your brain never ends with your ideas. Great ideas, brilliant. You have so much going for you. You won't waste that all on me."_

_"You're more than my musings, Woong!" Youngjo would say and-_ God _, Hwanwoong knows that. Youngjo shows him that every single day. He didn't want it to be true. Mainly because it made this just that more difficult for both of them._

_"I'm not afraid." Hwanwoong would said, pressing a kiss to the curve of Youngjo's neck, "Neither should you."_

"Seoho-hyung," Giwook's crooning voice called out to him. Seoho's bated breath caught, staring at the unconscious figure in front of him. He slowly turned to look at Giwook as he approached, wildly curly hair held back by a headband. He whistled lowly when he saw the body lying there, as if impressed. Seoho was not impressed. He was petrified of what this meant for him. Maybe it was selfish to wonder of his own fate when he just killed a man, but...

He must've said that aloud, because Giwook shot him a cutting look. Seoho winced, watching as the younger male wandered over to the body, crouching down low and pressing his fingers to the man's throat. He waited, then drew his arm back.

"Well, this is no man. Look at these markings, how could they be natural?" Giwook noted, grabbing the man's chin and turning his face, scanning him over. Blood trickled down his forehead, too glittery and too light in red to be human. 

"Is he dead?" Seoho asked, voice small.

"Does he look alive?" Giwook said in return. At the lack of a response, he sighed and stood up, brushing off his hands on his slacks. He reached down to lift the body by the arm, dragging him off the rock. 

"Wh-What are you doing?!" Seoho asked, a bit frantic, stepping forward. He had no idea what to do, or any idea what _Giwook_ was going to do for that matter. Giwook shot him a look before stepping back, dragging the man with him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? We're going to go hide him. Maybe if we're lucky, they'll think the Forest Spirit did it." He said, expecting Seoho to catch on. The guy had a habit of being a bit of an airhead, of course he would make sure he listened closely to his words.

Seoho lit up, "And Keonhee will come back?"

Giwook clicked his tongue doubtfully, "What makes you think he'd be around to come back by now? He has to be on his way to the Spirit. I think he's a lost cause, personally, but..."

"He said that he was here to get food for Keonhee and that they were going to set out on the trail soon," Seoho nodded to the man "So that must mean he's around. We can get him, we can save him and say the Spirit took this one."

"But he didn't." Giwook deadpanned, "You killed him."

Seoho's breath caught in his throat, constricting painfully. For a moment, he was at a loss of words, before he swallowed around the burning lump in his throat. "Right."

"Right," Giwook repeated, slowly, "So we have to let Keonhee go to do what the village wishes, as unfortunate as it is."

"Do you honestly believe there's a Spirit out there?" Seoho demanded rather than asked, "Seriously?"

"Let's not test fate, Seoho-hyung." Giwook said, tilting his head to the side slightly, "This is no man. Who is to say what's out there?"

Much to Seoho's displeasure, he had a point. Giwook was usually a realist with these things, and even though it was far beyond any sense of Seoho's reality, he had to give him some credit. 

He didn't know what this man was. What was beyond the woods.

Seoho supposed the only way to figure out was to go to the woods himself. Clenching his jaw, he spun around and stalked off. Giwook quirked an eyebrow, sighing under his breath as his gaze downcast to the body still limp in his grasp.

"Tsk," Giwook sighed, reaching down to swipe his thumb over the blood lightly trickling from the stranger's forehead, "What to do with you..."

With that, he pressed the pad of his thumb on his tongue. The blood tasted sweet.

* * *

"It's getting late. He's still not back." Youngjo fretted, running tracks into the old wooden floor, "I think we should go look for him." 

"We can't," Keonhee said, much to his own disdain, "As much as I've been thinking about it, we can't. We have to stay right here."

"I don't think I can," Youngjo admitted. Keonhee could see how wound up he was, like a coil ready to burst free. Keonhee couldn't blame him; the shadows were lurking all around outside, unspoken predators ready to feast. There was no way he'd be brave enough to venture this late at night, so he was glad he had a place to stay and friends to travel with after all. He wasn't sure how he was expecting himself to stay on path if he went alone. One small noise and he'd be off like a rocket, speedily getting lost, speedily wasting away until he died. He had some luck left, in the end.

"You have to stay. Hwanwoong seems to know what he's doing." Keonhee snatched Youngjo's wrist when he moved forward, towards the door, "Stop, hyung, I know you want to get him but he'll be back. He probably just got caught up- you know the village as much as I do. It's so busy, he probably underestimated his ability to get what he needs."

"How can you be so sure?" Youngjo whispered, whipping around to face Keonhee. Keonhee half wished he didn't; he looked so tortured, so worried, that it was etched into his features like some blue era painting. He didn't ever doubt the older man's affections for the fairy, but he did realize how far they went. Keonhee opened his mouth to try to offer some half-hearted comfort, but thunder cracked the sky, causing him to squeak and jump.

The sky had been darkeneing for hours now, and it seemed the brush of a storm was over the horizon now.

Youngjo tensed in his grip, making Keonhee hold on tighter. He knew if Youngjo wanted, he could pull away and take off with no effort at all, but he didn't. He remained stagnant, fighting with his own thoughts. Keonhee held on even tighter, knowing that his fingerprints would be bruising Youngjo's skin for days. 

After what seemed like forever, he relented.

"I can't leave him out there." Youngjo said, miserably, and Keonhee got it, "I can't."

"He's a survivalist- like you said, he's stubborn." Keonhee reminded, "He'll find shelter, and once the storm passes, he'll come home. Right?" 

As soon as he spoke, a cold chill darted down his back, giving him a shiver that shook him to the core. He wondered if it was the universe's way of telling him that he was lying, that there was something terribly wrong with Hwanwoong, but he couldn't be too sure with himself. Keonhee usually carried himself with confidence that Seoho often called baseless- that he needed to fix on making it more genuine. 

That pest. Keonhee already missed him, wished he could say a proper goodbye, but neither of them were exactly the best at it.

"You're right," Youngjo relented. Keonhee couldn't tell if it was because he believed his weak attempts at comfort or if he realized Keonhee would be scared left home alone, so he decided to give him a small mercy. "You should get some rest, in the meantime. We'll have a long trip tomorrow."

"You're just saying that so I can't stop you when you sneak out." Keonhee jested, though it carried some truth. Regardless, he shimmied himself back under the heavy blankets, sinking down with a sigh. He hadn't moved from the bed all day, too lazy to make himself productive. There was also nothing to do but wait- so why not do it in comfort, if he could? He was going to exert himself in the morning, anyways. Who knows how much rest he'll get before he's shoved to the hands of the beast?

"I don't like storms that much either." Youngjo didn't sound scared, but he always managed to keep a composure. Somewhat, as he was cracking at the seams this time, looking a bit pale in the face and shaky. "Besides, Woongie would eat me alive if I went out in this weather and he turned out to be okay."

"Ah, he's a cannibalistic fairy too?" Keonhee's eyes brightened with mirth.

"He likes to think he is, sometimes."

They fell silent after that. Keonhee's eyes weren't heavy at all, so he stared at the ceiling. He felt nothing at this moment. No anxiety, no fear, no excitement and no regret. He wondered if his body was numbing out his emotions for survival's sake, because if that was the case, he wouldn't be surprised. Keonhee always felt things in great amounts, so he'd probably shut down if he was able to feel anything of what he should be feeling right now. Thank God for the little mercies. 

He was getting too lucky too soon.

Keonhee listened to the clanking around the room, before the wafting smell of lavender filled the space, relaxing his muscles almost instantly. He cursed his body's ability to relent to any sort of stress-releasing aroma as much as he cursed Youngjo's possession of something of the sort. Youngjo seemed like the kind of guy who would scream at his own reflection as a relaxant. Then again, he did write a lot...maybe this helped...

"Do you really think Hwanwoong is okay?" Youngjo asked, once more, his back to Keonhee. The shirt he wore was big on him, his hair tousled. He looked almost as much of a fairy as his boyfriend did, minus the markings that deemed him as such.

"I think he's fine," Keonhee said, honestly, "I think he'll be okay."

"Okay." Youngjo sighed, sliding the candle to a more safe place so it didn't catch fire on anything, "Then let's go to sleep."

Keonhee didn't need to be told twice to rest his head on the pillow and force himself to drift off. 

Keonhee dreamt of a ravine.

The sky ahead was muted- no clouds in sight, but not exactly clear blue, either. The sun was bleary, like he was seeing it through barely sightful eyes. Keonhee himself was sitting on the edge, dressed in clothes fancier than he's ever owned with his helpful income. The shirt was deep and silky on his skin, the pants form fitting. Every so often, the wind would rustle his clothes, and he'd have to reach up to brush a stray lock of hair away from his face. With a deep sigh, Keonhee fixed his gaze on the calmly churning water below. It wasn't going too fast, nor too slow. Just right for a day like this. The branches swayed, the greenery was vivid- it was nice, calming, and Keonhee could sit here forever.

A deer wandered close to the stream's edge, dipping its head low to the water and taking careful sips from it. Keonhee watched it, eyes focused, like he'd never see something like it again. There was something different about this deer, unlike the other plain ones he's seen throughout his life. Its coat was sleek and tan and the impressive antlers it bore were almost _glowing_. Keonhee's eyebrows furrowed as the animal lifted its head, meeting his eyes with its own pearly white ones. 

It blinked and Keonhee opened his eyes to wake in a cold, cold room.

"What the hell..." He chattered, trying to close the blankets around him. He couldn't seem to get warmer no matter how many times he twisted himself around in the padded fabric, groaning lowly to himself. This was impossible- how was he supposed to get a good night's sleep light this, when it felt like winter all over again?

Though, he shut up when his irritated groaning was intervened by what sounded like low, painful moans. Lifting his head, he turned to face the darkness, thinking Hwanwoong was back and hurt or Youngjo was seriously upset to his stomach. Instead, he found an unfamiliar figure slumped in the corner of the small home. It was too big to be Hwanwoong but too small to be Youngjo, so Keonhee's heart lurched when he realized it was an intruder. He wasn't sure what to do, feeling around for something he could attack with, to no avail. Youngjo was down the short hall to the room he shared with the fairy, and he wasn't sure if he could even get to it fast enough without alerting this stranger that he was awake in the first place.

This was...surely a pickle to be in!

Much to Keonhee's draining luck, the stranger seemed to be aware that he was awake. He groaned louder, trying to beckon Keonhee closer. Sure enough, much to his own dumbed confusion, he hesitantly reached to the side to switch on the lamp. The room was still dark, but he could at least see the features of the person, and-

Icy bewilderment shook him cold. "Dongju?" He asked, disbelieving. 

The boy who was _definitely_ Dongju, with his dark and curly hair, with his pouty lips and scrunched eyebrows, clutched at his stomach with a louder groan. He didn't reply, so Keonhee pushed himself up again.

"Dongju, are you okay?"

"--Me." Dongju rasped out.

"What?"

"I said _help me!_ "

Keonhee didn't have time to place his bets and send his prayers before Dongju's whole body contorted. Neck twisting grotesquely, eyes rolling up into his skull and mouth dropping open- too open, too wide- Keonhee only watched in gasping horror as dark liquid spurted and poured from Dongju's nose and mouth. It could be blood, it could be something darker, more unknown- Keonhee didn't sit to wait. The second Dongju's twisted body scurried towards him, Keonhee had already flung himself off the bed with a shriek, smacking his head on the table's edge on the way down. Dongju wasn't gurgling or groaning anymore, he was cry shrieking- and it sounded terrifying. Like a child violently wailing for its mother as it bled out, that's what Dongju sounded like. Keonhee didn't waste another moment to hear it any longer.

He sent his silent apologies to Youngjo, screaming his pounding head off as he burst out the front door, barefooted and in his pajamas, giving himself to the hands of the brewing storm outside. Everything was dark and the rain hurt as it hit his face in tiny raindrops. He was almost hyperventilating as he sped through the forest, the mud sploshing around his feet.

"Keonhee? Keonhee! _Keonhee!_ " Youngjo's frantic calls sounded far behind him. Keonhee was half tempted to turn around and save him from Dongju, who was most likely scaring him just as much. However, his long legs had taken him far by now, in some unseen direction. His lungs burned, his eyes wet with tears and rain, streaking through the dark and boding forest without a second care, as long as he got away from whatever _that_ monster was.

Taking a sharp turn, his soul got trapped in his forcefully closed mouth as he saw Dongju standing before him, the front of his starch white shirt dark with a crimson oval. He stood, arms held out, but otherwise looking completely normal this time.

"Boo!" He shouted at Keonhee, sending him squealing to the ground. The mud went up around him like a downpour, causing him to sob out in discomfort and terror. He scrambled at the ground, but couldn't seem to catch a hold of anything for the life of him. He squirmed on the ground, pathetically, like a worm trying to get away from a bird. A bird that was more unnatural than anything he's ever seen before.

"-Too far, Keonhee-hyung, you're too far-" Dongju chimed, but Keonhee was barely paying attention to him. He cried out once more, shouldering his way to rest on his side instead of messily on his stomach, but that's when he heard the most soul-shaking growl rip through the air, deep and killer. Keonhee tensed at once, looking over his shoulder, but he couldn't see anything. He couldn't _see anything_.

A flash of lightning, and this massive monster of a wolf stood in front of him. It was bigger than the normal wolves he's seen in books or dart through the woodland. It shouldn't exist- it shouldn't be _real_.

But neither should a lot of things he's seen, unfortunately. 

"Oh no." Dongju said, unimpressed, from just a bit behind him this time. Keonhee didn't bother to look at him, his eyes fixated on the wolf in front of him. It licked its snout, glowering as it stalked forward. Keonhee held his breath, didn't move, tried to summon each piece of survivalist knowledge he knew- but it didn't matter. The wolf was set on something, and it showed when it suddenly lunged for Keonhee, sinking its teeth into the meat of his calf.

A scream Keonhee didn't recognize to be himself tore from his throat, cutting it raw, as he was taken by the most intense pain he's ever felt in his life. 

The wolf shook him, tossing him back onto his belly as it dragged him back towards the darkness. Keonhee couldn't shut up even if he wanted too- screaming and crying until his cheeks were wet and his fingertips were bloody from trying to desperately claw himself away from the beast. It clamped down harder and Keonhee sobbed out, eyes squinted shut as he lifted his face to meet Dongju's. In the minimal lighting the storm gave, the boy looked detached from the situation. Almost smug.

Keonhee cried. _This is how you died._

Dongju didn't budge. _You think?_

Keonhee whimpered, pounding his fist on the ground. He hoped he passed out from the pain, so he didn't have to feel it when this wolf snapped his lower leg off and then pounced to eat him alive. He begged God to spare him that, at least. 

Maybe this was the Forest Spirit. Maybe he's completed his mission as it was. That would be too easy. Too terrifyingly painful, too terrifyingly soon.

Keonhee tensed up when he felt his lower body slowly begin to get raised off the ground. His eyes bugged out, gasping out soft _ah, ah, nooo_ 's. He was fully expecting to be carried off into the forest to die when the wolf let out a snarl that shook him to the bone.

Something gripped at the wolf's jaw, prying it open. Keonhee could feel it against his skin, wet with blood, torn open. He gasped as the pressure suddenly relieved and he was dropped back to the wet ground.

"You shouldn't let your leg touch the mud, it could be infected." Dongju supplied, unhelpfully. Keonhee couldn't help it; he sobbed against his forearm brokenly, unsure if he should be relieved or not.

He didn't watch as the wolf snarled and cut off with a whimper, thundering footsteps carrying off with the storm. There was no more noise for a silent, but a soft gleam of light cascading just before him. Keonhee lifted his head, watching the orbs of light dance for a second, before turning to look to look to see where it was coming from.

Before him was an intimidating figure of a man. Dark and shadowed, tall- he was provoking in every sense of the word. Keonhee's jaw fell open at the cloak that hung from wide shoulders, but that wasn't the most shocking part of this man. The most shocking part was the half deer skull that covered his upper face, bony antlers stretching out towards the dark, stormy sky over a head of messy hair. They were luminous, casting great light onto his figure. When the lightning flashed again, Keonhee could make out the lower half of his face. Sharp, strong-jawed, a small mouth with parted, plush lips.

"Don't you get it now?" Dongju's voice rang his ears, instead of the mystical stranger's, "Don't you get it now, Keonhee?"

Keonhee didn't. Safe to say, he didn't.

"Keonhee! Lee Keo-nhee..." Youngjo's voice trailed off when he saw exactly what was playing out before him. He looked just as stunned, a broom clutched in his shaking hands, greened bangs sticking to his forehead. 

He turned with a gargling groan and dropped his head into his forearm, sobbing his stress away. If there was a ghost of a touch trying to caress along his shoulders, he didn't bother trying to figure out whose hand it was. He just took the comfort he desperately needed, if for now.

Because no.

No, he didn't get it.

Keonhee lifted his head, sniffling as his body slowly went into shock from the pain, cold and bloody.

"Can someone explain it to me?" He asked, mournfully. That may have roused a chuckle out of- someone, really, but Keonhee didn't bother to pay attention. "I'm cold."

"You would be." An unfamiliar voice spoke, deep and rumbling, causing Keonhee's throat to clench. He squeezed his eyes shut as soundless footsteps lead the stranger over to him. "We should get you to the woods."

Keonhee waited a few seconds before peeking his teary eyes open, barely making out the man before him. "What?" He asked, weakly.

"Don't you get it?" Dongju butted in, once more, "Keonhee-hyung, this is the Forest Spirit."

Youngjo squeaked somewhere behind him.

"Oh." Keonhee breathed. _Just his luck- the journey didn't have to be made in the first place, did it?_

"Keonhee." The Forest Spirit said, mulling over his name, "Leedo."

"Huh?"

"I'm Leedo."

"Sorry, my brain isn't working." Keonhee was surprised at the casual conversation, the patience the Forest Spirit- Leedo- showed. "That's the name of a king. Your name."

"Mmh."

"It suits you."

"He's going delirious." Youngjo interrupted, "He'll get tired, and then he'll bleed out if we just leave him here-"

"Right." Leedo crouched down, setting down a basket that Keonhee hadn't noticed had been resting on the crook of his arm. He didn't say much more, rummaging though it himself.

"Hwanwoong!" Keonhee gasped out in realization, "We can't leave without Hwanwoong."

Leedo tensed at the mention of the fairy. He didn't say anything, but it seemed to effect him slightly. Keonhee shivered. 

"You mean that little fairy that hops about the forest?" Dongju scoffed, "He's in bad shape."

"H-How would you know?" Youngjo asked, realization sinking in that this was _Son Dongju_ , who was buried last spring. There was no way that he should be alive. "Dongju, you're-"

"A ghost." Dongju said, simply, "I'm a ghost, so don't bother with your silly theories."

"And if you know he's in bad shape-" Youngjo gasped, sharply, "I have to go back. I have to find him."

"You can't. You know you can't. You've seen the Spirit, you have to come with us now. You could be of use." Some invisible force prevented Youngjo from moving from his spot, and he cried out in dismay at it. "You have to stay."

"But- Hwanwoong-"

"Fighter. He's always been...a fighter." Leedo muttered, voice almost drowned out by his timber and the storm, "We have to go back to the woods."

Keonhee blinked slowly, their voices drowning out and mixing into one around him.

Dongju was insistent that Youngjo come along. Youngjo was crying, his mind getting to the best of him.

Somewhere beyond, a sweet song called to him. It was a song he's never heard before and will never hear again. Instruments he's never heard played the crooning melody, chiming and warm on the ears. He found himself wanting to wrap his arms around himself and sway along to the song. It brought the kind of solace from all the crying and all the mess and torn flesh that he really, _really_ needed.

The sunshine above was almost too bright, but Keonhee found himself smiling sweetly.


End file.
